Stay Home

© Alessandro Penso - Image from the Stay Home photography project

i

Dimitra Tsiopela, 40, teacher, Athens, Greece Over the last decade, Greece has experienced a protracted economic crisis that hit particularly hard between 2009 and 2014. Its effects have left deep scars on the country’s productive system and social structure, and its recovery is still fragile. Dimitra teaches in a school for children with disability. She has a young daughter and another on the way. The usual pregnancy medical visits have been reduced to a minimum due to virus mitigation measures. Her partner organises events and is likely to be permanently out of a job due to the virus crisis. “Greece has been in crisis for 10 years. In the last two, the situation had improved a bit, and now we are again facing darkness.” “Every so often my daughter wants to go outside. We have a small flat without a balcony. It’s normal. The other day my partner took her for a walk on his own here in the neighbourhood. He was so careful not to let her touch anything, but then once she got into the elevator she put her mouth on the mirror.” “I’m worried and full of questions. … I wonder if I contracted the virus, if I’d have to have treatment, and if so, what effect it would have on her (the unborn baby).” “Would I have to breast-feed with a mask on? If she were born with the infection, would they take her away from me straight away?” “I have to have my blood sugar levels checked due to a light case of (gestational) diabetes. The doctor tries to conduct the visit over the phone and leaves me the scripts.” Dimitra has friends across Europe. “I see them on Skype, we organise dinners at distance. I wonder how things will be. We won’t be able to travel anymore. It was normal for us to visit them.” “I’m optimistic, I have a new life inside me and I hope she can find a better world.” “Until two months ago, in Greece the conservative New Democracy party wanted to privatise everything. Now, they tell us to get out on our balconies and clap for the doctors and nurses. It’s hypocrisy and I hope that people understand that we need a public system and that everyone has a right to health care, even the unemployed, even migrants, because we all depend on each other. This virus is teaching us that if others aren’t healthy, neither are you.”

i

Coby Owens, 25 years old Candidate for Wilmington City Council Chief Executive Officer of Youth Caucus of America The United States has declared the highest coronavirus death toll and number of infections of any country in the world. "I believe America wasn’t prepared for a pandemic like it should have been. We still face high uninsured rates and out of pocket expenses compared to other parts of the world. Testing for COVID-19 has been difficult to access, especially in communities of color, and overall COVID-19 has exacerbated our healthcare disparities." "COVID-19 doesn't not discriminate but we have seen a spike in minority communities, especially African Americans. When looking at why we are seeing COVID-19 spread through African Americans communities at such a high rate, we must look at the historic and systemic discrimination in healthcare, housing, education, and financially." "My biggest fear is the long term impact this will have on communities that have traditionally been underserved already." "If no action is taken, we will see mass eviction and foreclosures, unemployment continue to rise and small businesses suffer.” "Unemployment has skyrocketed and we lack leadership from the White House during this pandemic.” “Students in low income communities are also suffering from a digital divide. Due to the fact schools have moved to learning online, which includes class meetings, explanations of new content, homework, and learning exercises, this divide seems more like an abyss. Students without internet service will fall further behind.” “Protests (against lockdown measures) are being led by the far-right and white supremacist, who are being reckless and irresponsible." "My hope is that we are able to put people above politics and do the right thing for our neighbors."

i

Marco Casula, 28, chemistry expert from Mestre, near Venice, Italy, stationed at the Ny-Alesund National Institute of Polar Research, Svalbard Archipelago, Norway The Svalbard Archipelago, around 1,000 kilometres from the North Pole, is the one of the northernmost inhabited places in the world. In summer, 200 people live here on the international research stations. This winter, the number dropped to around 30. It’s a key monitoring point for climate change, with researchers coming from Europe and Asia. And, due to its isolation, it’s one of the few truly COVID-19-free places in the world. People wear ski masks instead of medical masks, and gloves are used to protect against the cold, not the coronavirus. You can still shake hands, eat reindeer and have a beer together on a Saturday night. Marco arrived on January 1 to man the Italian research station and was supposed to return home in March, but nobody can replace him due to the virus crisis. “The coronavirus will decide the date of my return to Italy, and since none of my colleagues can come here at the moment, I’m staying. I also have a responsibility to carry on with my work and not interrupt (by leaving the station unattended) the climate data that Italy has been collecting in the Arctic for more than 10 years.” “Every day I take snow samples, measure the snow cover, the sea ice, maintain the instrumentation, collect data on this delicate environment, which is crucial in showing climate change. Here, you can see the effects of climate change in front of your eyes. … Last week, in the space of just a few hours, the temperature went from minus-30 to positive-2 degrees and it started raining. Rain at these latitudes is unheard of.” “I can go out and enjoy these unique and magnificent landscapes. I can have human contact with colleagues from the other international research stations. I have all the space I want. I think people who are forced to stay in their homes, not to mention those in quarantine or in hospital, have a much harder time. In this sense, I consider myself in a privileged position.” “When I left (to come here), my mother was very worried. She used to tell me to cover up. Now my thoughts are with them (my parents) and my friends.”

i

Dimitra Tsiopela, 40, teacher, Athens, Greece Over the last decade, Greece has experienced a protracted economic crisis that hit particularly hard between 2009 and 2014. Its effects have left deep scars on the country’s productive system and social structure, and its recovery is still fragile. Dimitra teaches in a school for children with disability. She has a young daughter and another on the way. The usual pregnancy medical visits have been reduced to a minimum due to virus mitigation measures. Her partner organises events and is likely to be permanently out of a job due to the virus crisis. “Greece has been in crisis for 10 years. In the last two, the situation had improved a bit, and now we are again facing darkness.” “Every so often my daughter wants to go outside. We have a small flat without a balcony. It’s normal. The other day my partner took her for a walk on his own here in the neighbourhood. He was so careful not to let her touch anything, but then once she got into the elevator she put her mouth on the mirror.” “I’m worried and full of questions. … I wonder if I contracted the virus, if I’d have to have treatment, and if so, what effect it would have on her (the unborn baby).” “Would I have to breast-feed with a mask on? If she were born with the infection, would they take her away from me straight away?” “I have to have my blood sugar levels checked due to a light case of (gestational) diabetes. The doctor tries to conduct the visit over the phone and leaves me the scripts.” Dimitra has friends across Europe. “I see them on Skype, we organise dinners at distance. I wonder how things will be. We won’t be able to travel anymore. It was normal for us to visit them.” “I’m optimistic, I have a new life inside me and I hope she can find a better world.” “Until two months ago, in Greece the conservative New Democracy party wanted to privatise everything. Now, they tell us to get out on our balconies and clap for the doctors and nurses. It’s hypocrisy and I hope that people understand that we need a public system and that everyone has a right to health care, even the unemployed, even migrants, because we all depend on each other. This virus is teaching us that if others aren’t healthy, neither are you.”

i

Rasha Deeb, 32, artist and refugee from Syria living in Tuebingen, Germany Rasha finished her artistic studies in Damascus, specialising in sculpture. “I feel safe here, I trust the Germans. They have an excellent health system, there are lots of intensive care beds.” “I made it through the journey (from Syria) to come here. All that horror. I’ll make it this time, too. I’m young. But I’m worried about my mother, my father and my brother who are in Damascus. We don’t know how many people are infected, what the situation is, and they can’t do anything.“ “(In Syria ) you either die of coronavirus or of hunger. There are no government subsidies there, and even if you have money, it doesn’t make much of a difference. … It’s war.”

i

Loretta Rossi Stuart, 52, mother of Giacomo, a detainee in Rebibbia prison, Rome, Italy Giacomo dreamed of being a champion boxer, but drugs got in the way and he was arrested. A psychiatric report declared him “unsuitable for the prison system”. He should be in a treatment facility, but there are no places available, and so instead he has remained in an overcrowded jail. With the coronavirus pandemic, his mother Loretta is living a new nightmare. Italy has been one of the countries worst-hit by the virus. She has been fighting to have her son released so he can get the treatment he needs. But now, contact between her and Giacomo has become more difficult. Fears of the pandemic spreading within the prison system are high. Prisoners and guards have tested positive, and there have been protests and riots in facilities over the authorities’ handling of the virus crisis. The state “says to stay a metre apart. But there are six of them in 10 square metres (in the prison).” “I used to visit every week. Now I’m waiting for a Skype call. It’s supposed to be on Tuesdays, once a week for 20 minutes. … But there are a lot of people and last Tuesday we missed out.” “On the phone, I show him the house, photos of when he was little, photos of his siblings. I show him boxing matches on YouTube.” Prisoners “are always the last, and now they are more than ever.”

i

Issifou Djibo, 45, TV journalist, Niamey, Niger Niger, in West Africa, is the one of the poorest countries in the world. In the capital Niamey, people have been told to stay at home. The government has imposed a night-time curfew, and entry to and from the city has been cut off. Schools, mosques and churches are closed. The market, where people meet and which is a source of economic survival for many, is continuously disinfected. Niger’s health system is weak, and China has sent medical supplies. There is one coronavirus diagnostic centre in the entire country. It’s difficult to know the spread of the virus with certainty. The country is home to hundreds of thousands of refugees and internally displaced people. Malnutrition is a problem. There are security concerns, including the risk of attacks by ISIS to Boko Haram. “The consequences (of the coronavirus in Niger) could be catastrophic. Many people earn their living from day to day. There could be a shortage of food and this would worsen the situation for the poorest. We are in God’s hands.” “People continue to go to the markets to buy food. Perhaps, unlike in Western countries, here we are less traumatised by the latest emergency.” In the evening when the connection is good, Djibo contacts friends and relatives in North America and Europe. “They tell me what’s happening there and I try to explain what’s happening here. The president of Niger, Mahamadou Issoufou, has said we need a Marshall Plan for Africa. Now we need it even more than before. We need solidarity to face this virus.”

i

Israel has started using the cell phone data of COVID-19 patients to track people’s movements and identify others with whom they had been in contact, with the Shin Bet security agency authorised to use tools usually reserved for anti-terrorism operations as part of the virus response. People can also download an app to see if they have previously crossed paths with others who went on to test positive for the virus. Some have accused the government of bypassing parliament to approve the measures and violating citizens’ privacy. The authorities use drones for virus-related surveillance, and the army has deployed to Bnei Brak, an ultra-Orthodox city near Tel Aviv considered a virus hot spot. “It’s an invasion of privacy, and some people say the system is anti-democratic, but I think that, at this time, the most important thing is to stop the spread of the virus.” Yftah, referring to the Israeli authorities: “They’re ready for anti-terrorism (operations) and war, but not mass pneumonia.”

i

Maria Consuelo, 34, sex worker, Bogota, Colombia Maria Consuleo lives in Bogota’s Santa Fe neighbourhood, where prostitution is tolerated and where around 3,000 women earn a living as sex workers. Maria doesn’t have a mask or gloves. She knows that in this neighbourhood, where people are poor and everyone lives on top of each other, an outbreak could be disastrous. The situation is difficult for everyone. The quarantine imposed by the Colombian government prevents desperate Venezuelan migrants from having a salary, so many are going back. “There are eight people in my family – my mother, my disabled brother, my younger siblings and my children. They all depend on me and now I’m not working (because of the coronavirus). There are many women like me here, supporting the whole family.” “How can you do this work and maintain social distancing? Some people still come, but I’m afraid I could infect others. But if I don’t work, I can’t eat.” “This month (April) we got by. But from next month, there’s just the government allowance for my disabled brother. It’s not enough to support everyone. It’s not enough to eat. Even the Venezuelans have left.”

i

Lesley Fang, 37, marker for luxury brands, lives in Shanghai. Lesley’s boyfriend is Swiss and usually lives with her in Shanghai. She says that when China began to take action against the spread of the novel coronavirus, local media compared the situation to the SARS epidemic of 2003. People were able to understand the danger and the need for a serious response thanks to that experience, she says. Her boyfriend decided to travel to Europe to avoid the strict measures in China, only to find himself in lockdown there not long after. They are now waiting to be reunited, but even when he is able to return to China, he will have to spend two weeks in a hotel in mandatory quarantine on arrival. "In Shanghai, things have almost got back to normal rhythms except that we are still wearing masks, everyone outside the home. Most restaurants have re-opened while some sadly closed.” "It’s sad to hear that the Chinese are blamed for the pandemic around the world. In China, we blame those who started the infection, or the government who wasn’t being transparent in telling the public that it’s contagious and failed to stop the virus from spreading in Wuhan. It’s understandable that one needs something or someone to blame for this catastrophe from nowhere. People die, families are separated, life is suspended, plus economic changes afterwards. But it’s not a good time, if any, to be hostile to any country or anyone as we are all victims of the virus. Everyone is equal in front of the virus." Regarding the Chinese government’s use of apps to track and control the spread of virus: "In China, most of our activities online need to be authenticated with mobile numbers which are registered under your real name and ID card. I guess it’s not new to be tracked and analyzed as a real person, which raises my discomfort. But there’s not much one can do unless you don’t use the apps and services." “Having something like proof of health is important for going to public places. On the other hand, I do feel suspicious of being watched, having my personal data tracked through a lot of the apps. The question is after the virus situation, will the organizations or even businesses continue to track and use the personal data of everyone they can reach. If yes, it’s a big problem and I can not accept it."

i

Francisco Alves dos Santos Nascimento, 40, head of local cooperative, Xixuau, Brazil Francisco lives in a village in a national park on the Jauaperi River, between the states of Amazonas and Roraima. He is the head of a local cooperative that promotes sustainable development projects for indigenous populations. Now, it’s trying to help get basic necessities to indigenous families. The closest hospitals are around 500 kilometres away. President Jair Bolsonaro has played down the coronavirus, saying it’s a “little flu” and dismissing “hysteria” around it. The government has offered financial support, but it has its difficulties for those in remote areas. “I am very worried. The virus is around us. Here, there are no roads, just rivers, and there are no hospitals.” “In our villages, it’s difficult to stay at home, because there’s no market and you have to move to get food.” “Almost all of us lack a bank account. They told us that we can use them (government subsidies) to pay for things online. But out of 14 villages (in the area), only three have a connection.” “We don’t need money, we need food and medicine.” “You have to fear and respect nature and live with this sense of vulnerability.” “We need to act now (on the coronavirus), change course. Just like saving the forest.”

i

Diana, 40, university lecturer, Bogota, Colombia “We were watching the news about what was happening in Europe on television. Our mayor proposed a preventative lockdown but the government was opposed to it. Here in Bogota, we felt a sense of responsibility towards our citizens. We know that the country doesn’t have the means to face this crisis. So, when the government went against the mayor’s decision, we protested. In the end, we were the first city in Colombia to impose a lockdown, and the rest of the country followed a week later.” “I am afraid but I feel lucky because I have a job in a country where 50 percent of the population lives from day to day and can’t pay for good health cover. … If the coronavirus hits Colombia hard, it will be a massacre.”

i

Don Pietro, 44, priest at Tortona hospital near Milan, Italy, where COVID-19 patients are treated Don Pietro had always worked in Italy’s prisons and Roma camps, but when the coronavirus pandemic hit, he stopped. Then, he heard Pope Francis speaking and thought of all the people with COVID-19 who had died alone, unable to say goodbye to their loved ones. So, he called his bishop and asked for permission to minister to intensive care patients. Now, he spends his days in hospital with those fighting the virus. He wears a wooden cross so he’s not mistaken for a doctor. “Some people ask me for confession, others to talk about music or fear, while some stay silent. My job is to express myself from the heart.”

i

Wahid, 24, asylum seeker from Afghanistan in the Moria refugee camp, Lesbos, Greece Wahid arrived on the Greek island of Lesbos nine months ago. He is at the Moria refugee camp, waiting to finish the interview process to be able to apply for asylum. The refugees have been told to be careful and keep a distance of two metres, to always wash their hands and pay attention to cleanliness. In a camp with a capacity of several thousand that hosts 20,000 people, that’s all but impossible. “There’s not always water, and even then, it’s only available at one place. I don’t even always have soap or clean clothes.” “We have to line up to go to the toilet or get food. Sometimes there’s a crowd. Even if you’re afraid of getting the virus, leaving the line means not eating.” “Most of us live in an olive field in tents provided by volunteers. If it rains, you risk getting wet. Animals and insects get in. Keeping the tents clean is difficult. Even having them at a safe distance is impossible.” “If the virus reaches here, many people will die. There are a lot of elderly people. Many are sick, or have diabetes or heart problems that they aren’t getting medical attention for.” “We understand that it’s important to stay home. We want to stay home too, but what they need to understand is that we don’t have a home.” “I don’t have a choice, going back would mean death. Europeans are lucky to be born here. We are just unlucky, but this doesn’t mean we deserve to die.”

i

Aysar Naserallah, 30, fixer, Gaza Strip Two million people live in the impoverished Palestinian enclave of Gaza, under Israeli blockade for more than a decade. According to the World Health Organization, it only has 70 intensive care beds and 60 ventilators. The first two officially declared cases of coronavirus were two men who had returned from Pakistan. Hamas, which controls Gaza, has taken measures to combat the virus, including the closure of cafes and mosques. Schools are shut and quarantine centres have been set up. “I have been calling the many people who I met over years of war. For the first time, it’s me who asks them how they are. They tell me about the danger. They are afraid. Every so often I joke with my friends and say, ‘Maybe Gaza is safer this time.’” “They say that it (the coronavirus) is like war, but that’s not the case. If you stay at home, you’re fine. During war, you’re not safe in your own house.”

Stay in the loop